


I Sing the Body Electric

by BackinBlack47



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 09:43:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17281691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BackinBlack47/pseuds/BackinBlack47
Summary: A modern-day college AU where Rey is a 4th year undergrad, and Ben is getting his PhD. Featuring fun library antics, poetry, Ben Solo wearing glasses, and lots of coffee.There are a couple triggers about familial neglect (marked with ## if you would rather skip past).





	I Sing the Body Electric

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist (that I used to write): 
> 
> Thunder - Imagine Dragons  
> Subtle Thing - Marian hill  
> Don't Be Scared - Sophie Meiers  
> Feel It Still (Medasin Remix) - Portugal the Man  
> Moment's Silence (Common Tongue) - Hozier  
> Unsteady - X Ambassadors  
> Technicolor Beat - Oh Wonder  
> Blowback - Galimantias  
> Down - Marian Hill  
> Electric (Marian Hill Remix) - Alina Baraz, Khalid

Rey and Rose slide into their usual table at the Coruscant library. It was Rey’s favorite of the four campus libraries, and it housed the most comfortable couches on campus. It was also the smallest, with few people sitting among the stacks. Rey loved it for its quiet but homey atmosphere.

They sit down slip into their usual routine; working companionably side by side, Rose sneaking candy from her backpack, since no food since no food is allowed in the library.

“He’s looking at you,” Rose whispers out of the blue.

“What?” Rey lifts her head up.

“At the desk. The librarian.”

“Never pegged you for the sexy librarian type, Rose.”

Rose swats her arm. “You’re the one he was staring at. Please look at him. Dear god, he is attractive.”

Rey glances to her left. Her eyes meet his, and they both look away quickly. She sneaks her eyes back to him after a minute. He has dark hair, obscuring his face as he looks down at the circulation desk.

“See? I told you,” whispered Rose.

As a graduating English major, her life was consumed by essays, essays, and more essays. She, and sometimes Rose, came to the library every day to work. Rose wildly preferred to do homework or write in their apartment, citing too many distractions away from home.

“He must be new,” Rey says. She returns to her work, her fingers flying over the keyboard of her battered laptop. 3 essays due this week, and she’s been working on them for days. She’d stare at him later.

           

 

She’s at the library again the next day, because when isn’t she at the library nowadays? On her 4th year in college, and trying to write a thesis while taking a full load of classes. The library gets her out of the cramped apartment she shares with Rose and Paige for something other than her job at The First Order, the campus coffee shop.

Currently, she’s trying to study, but she’s distracted by the growling of her stomach and the headache she feels coming on. She had an early shift this morning, five thirty for the 6 am opening time, and a day so hectic that she hasn’t had a moment to herself since she woke up. After a five-hour shift, she’s had class back to back all day. She longingly thinks of the sandwich she hurriedly made at eleven o’clock last night, left on her kitchen counter this morning as she ran out the door. She peeks around the library as she sneaks a piece of cookie from her bag, bought from a hallway vending machine on the way here. Technically, food wasn’t allowed in the library. But it’s four pm and she hasn’t eaten anything today, and just one bite of food shouldn’t be a problem. No one’s around to see her anyway.

She’s on her second mouthful of cookie when someone clears their throat behind her. “There’s no food allowed in the library,” follows, and she jumps, slapping her hand to her mouth. The rest of the cookie tumbles from her lap to the floor. She turns around and there’s a very large, very angry looking man behind her. He’s glowering at her, and good god, he’s tall She has to crane her neck to see his face. His black hair falls in waves around his face, which itself is striking, to say the least. His arms are crossed over his chest, a cup of coffee in one hand as he glares.

“I’m sorry,” she begins, struggling to swallow in her surprise. 

“I don’t care,” he snaps. “No food, those are the rules.”

She nods. “I know I just… I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.” His face remains impassive, and suddenly all she wants to do is curl up in a ball and hide and _sleep_.

“I’m going to go,” she begins, standing up. She swings her bag over her shoulder, but she is standing too close to him, and her bag jostles the coffee in his hand, spilling brown liquid all over his pristine light blue dress shirt. He steps back, a scowl on his face.

She gasps. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

He sighs, shaking the coffee from his arm as he says, “It’s fine.”

It is clearly not fine, judging by the look on his face, but Rey’s face is flaming red and she doesn’t want to linger any longer, so she steps around him and half walks, half jogs all the way home.

 

           

She avoids looking at him for about a week, skittering past the desk every time she comes to the library. He glares at her whenever she sees him and their eyes meet. After several of this, she can’t take it anymore. She is at this library all the time, and apparently so is here. She decides to try to get on his good side. She brings him a large coffee from the First Order.

“Um, hi,” she starts. He is bent over a book lying flat on the desk, and he looks up to glare at her.

“I brought you coffee,” she says. “As an apology, for the other day. For eating in the library. But mostly for spilling yours.” He raises his eyebrows.

“Thank you,” he says. He looks down at the coffee on the desk, and one side of his mouth quirks up in half a smile. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says.

“I know, but I felt bad. I ruined your shirt and took away your coffee.”

“No one has ever done that before.”

“People spill coffee on you often?” she jokes.

He sighs. Not a joker, then. “I meant something so… nice.”

“Really? I’m surprised. You’re kind of scary when you’re angry,” she whispers. “Oh, here.” She digs out packets of creamer and sugar. “I didn’t know how you liked your coffee.” She drops the packets on the counter.

“Thank you,” he says again.  

“You’re welcome,” she smiles. They stand in awkward silence for a moment before she clears her throat. “Are you new here? I come here all the time, and I’ve never seen you here before last week.”

“I usually work at Alderaan” he answers. Alderaan was the largest library on campus. Stunning architecture, but known for grumpy librarians. Fitting for this man.

They lapse into another silence, before Rey breaks it again. “I’ve got to…” she says, nodding towards the bulk of the library. “So, enjoy,” she finishes, stepping back.

“Thanks again,” he says. She turns around to leave, when she feels a hand on her shoulder. “Wait,” he says. He’s still behind the counter, though standing now to reach her. His hand is so large, the tips of his fingers nearly brush her chest.

“What’s your name?” he asks. His voice at full volume is deeper than she expected He’s looking at her very seriously, his hand still on her shoulder. Her eyes wander to it, and he seems to finally realize it’s there, pulling away as though he’s been shocked.

“I’m Rey,” she says. “Who are you?”

“I’m Ben.”

“Nice to meet you, Ben,” she says.

“You as well,” he says. She nods before willing her legs to carry her away from the desk and back into the stacks.

She plops her stuff down at her usual table, still thinking of the warmth of his hand.

 

 

She returns to the library the next day. She has to do a project on poetry. Poetry. Sure, she’s read poetry for class, but her major concentration is fiction. She is not a poetry reader. Rose, her computer science major, English minor of a best friend, is no help. Paige was a psychology major, so she isn’t any help either. So, she turns to the library, the one resource that has never failed her. She has no plan, just stare at the section long enough until she found something, anything, that would work for her project.

Ben is there at the help desk, dark hair and hulking figure bent over a book. She walks up and rests her hands on the counter. He doesn’t look up at her yet, he is so absorbed in whatever book he’s reading.

“Help me find something?” she asks him. He looks up from his book.

He nods. “What do you need?”. He speaks softly, his voice like liquid amber honey.

“Could you tell me where the poetry section is?”

He perks up at this, his eyebrows raising in surprise, before a smile forms on his lips. It’s lopsided and wildly endearing. He looks less menacing. “You like poetry?” he asks.

“I don’t normally read a lot of poetry,” she says. His face falls somewhat. “But I want to start,” she continues. “Mostly because I have to do an analysis on a poem of my choice for class, but it probably wouldn’t hurt if I started reading more in general. So, if you have any recommendations…” she trails off.

He studies her before standing up and walking out from behind the desk. He is massive. He has at least a good six inches of height on her, and she isn’t short by any means. His shoulders are broad, and the man just takes up so much space. The front desk conceals the majority of his size. He walks past her without saying anything. She stares after him in mild disbelief. Was she supposed to follow him? To wait here? Who just walks off like that? Though he moves surprisingly gracefully for someone so large.

Unsure what to do, she peeks at the book he left page down on the desk. She reaches out to flip it over when-

“What are you doing?” Ben’s voice sounds from behind her and she jumps, slamming the book closed. He looks angry, his mouth pressed into a line, his brow furrowed.

“You were really absorbed and I just wanted to see what you were reading. I’m sorry,” she apologizes.

“Read this.” He hands her a battered looking hardcover, his voice tight. He stands back behind the desk, his arms crossed.

“Why should I trust your recs?”

“You ask me for a recommendation and then question my tastes?”

“Not everyone who works in a library has good taste in books,” she tries jokes, her face blushing. He studies her more before continuing. His stare is intense, and she simultaneously wants to bask in his gaze and squirm under the weight of it.  

“I’m getting my PhD in library science, but my undergrad major was English with a concentration in early 20th century poetry” he says.

“Oh shit, that’s amazing!” Rey whisper-shouts. His ears pink, and Rey decides it’s the most adorable thing she has ever seen.

“It’s something to do,” he says. His fingers drum on the back cover of his book.

“I’m a fourth-year undergrad, English major,” she says.

“Great minds think alike,” he replies. He slides the book he had been reading over the counter. “Here. Since you were so curious.”

She is about to say something else, but at that moment, Rose sidles up next to her.

“Rey,” she says, throwing her arms around Rey’s neck.

“Hi, Rose,” she says, her hands coming up to rest on Rose’s arms.

She lets Rose, whispering in Rey’s ear about her day, lead her away. She seems to have forgotten about the so-called sexy librarian. Rey glances backwards at Ben. He is staring after her. He mouths her names as she watches. _Rey_.

 

 

She doesn’t get back to the library, or to Ben’s book, for another couple of days. With essays, grad school applications, the First Order, and the work she sometimes did proofreading essays as a student on call, she never has time for much. When she finally cracks open the book, she finishes it in one sitting, reading way too late into the night. She needs 3 shots of espresso the next day during her morning shift to stay awake.

“I really liked it,” she tells Ben when she stumbles bleary eyed into the library later that day.

“Really?” His mouth quirks up into a shy smile. It’s lopsided, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the movement, and good God, it makes him look absolutely stunning.

“Yes!” Her voice is a little too loud, and someone at a table nearby shushes her, and she lowers her voice. “I don’t hate poetry just because I refuse to study it. I just… prefer to analyze novels.”

“What does it matter, as long as it’s words?” Ben says.

Rey smirks at him. “You sound like a tumblr post.” He rolls his eyes, but the smile is still on his face.  

“Anything else I should read?”

 

This begins a tentative but constant exchange of dialogue between the two of them. They share book recommendations, Ben recommending poetry for Rey while she recommends novels to him. He will read anything, from romance novel to high fantasy. Meanwhile, Rey reads poetry in a way she never has. She hasn’t read much poetry that she’s really _enjoyed_ , and hasn’t had the time to find some on top of all the work of school. Constantly having to analyze something for a class took some of the fun out of reading. It’s nice to just read for pleasure again.

Ben doesn’t judge her for disliking something. He nods, chews on his lip, looking very serious, and then recommends her something different, in his deep voice with a soft, lilting timber. And she doesn’t judge him. There’s none of the dreaded _but this author is so literary, blah blah blah_ , and Rey couldn’t be happier.  

The sticky heat of early September turns cooler as October approaches. She’s been spending more and more time at the library, which is ridiculous, because she spends half her life doing work there in the first place. She stands in front of the desk, usually after setting her things down at her table, with or without Rose, and she talks with Ben. About their days, about what TV shows they watch, whispered stolen moments that brighten her day. Ben is quiet, choosing his words carefully. After some weeks, she is able to read his facial expressions. A clench of the jaw when he’s angry at something. Or someone, in the case of some particular demanding library patrons. A slight raise of his eyebrows when he is confused. A small upturn of his lips when he is happy, as if he feels the need to bite back every expression of joy. Occasionally a full blown, uninhibited smile would peek through, the sternness melting off his face entirely. Those were rare, and Rey comes to remember those occasions.

She rarely sees him without a cup of coffee, either from one of the many campus coffee shops, or in a ceramic mug that he tells her is from the staff break room.

“Honestly, you drink more coffee than me. Should I worry?” she jokes one day. A general lack of sleep couple with working in a coffee shop resulted a caffeine tolerance through the roof.

“I don’t sleep much,” he replies, and something in his face tells her not to pry further.

He works at the library 4 days a week. If he’s not working behind the counter, he is there typing away on his laptop. “I have a masters in library science from the beginning of my doctorate,” he tells her one day when she asks why he is behind the desk so often if he is a student. “So, I work while I’m here. It’s a good way to make money, especially because graduate funding is never as much as you want it to be.”

Rey sighs. “I’m worried about that. I’m applying to grad school now, and having to deal with funding and visas and getting a new job and at a new place if I move is driving me crazy.” She sometimes woke up from nightmares about getting rejected from every school, not having enough funding to continue studies or research, and having to work instead to save up enough money. It wasn’t the worst, she reasoned, but she hated how her mind always drifted back to money. She had been self-sufficient for so long, and her struggles always came back to money, or the lack of it. She busts her ass every month to pay rent, to have enough money to pay for necessities, and if she’s lucky, have some fun.

“Where do you work?” he asks.

“The First Order.” She was working at least 4 days a week opening the store, and it was exhausting. She had never been a morning person, but the morning rush paid more, and not many of the college students were willing to be at work starting at 6 am. 

“I’ve never seen you there before,” he says. “I go there every day.”

“Huh. I would have remembered you if I’d seen you,” she says. His lips quirk, his eyes crinkling the smallest bit, and her breath catches.

“Am I that memorable?” he asks. She swats at his arm.

“I’ve been working the morning shifts since I have mostly afternoon classes this semester,” she says in lieu of a real reply. He was that memorable, but she doesn’t need to tell him that.

“Ah. I go around three, before my shift here. I’m not a morning person.”  

“Neither am I.”

“But you work the morning shift.”

“Tips are better then. But it’s starting to get to me.” She rubs her eyes. “Bed at one last night, up at 5.” She had had to finish a paper, due printed out in class the next day, and be up early for her shift.

“Shit. I can barely get up before 10.”

“Who has time to sleep that late?”

“I have a hard time falling asleep. And sleeping in general,” he says. He works his lip between his teeth, and she has the warrant urge to run her thumb over it.

“Stop by in the morning sometime,” she finds herself saying. “Come visit me.”

“Maybe I will,” he smiles. She wants to reach out and run her fingers through his hair. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation talking, but the longer she stares at it, the softer it looks.

“I’m holding you to that, Solo,” she smiles back. “What have you got for me today?” she continues, holding her palm open on the counter.

He places a book into her hand and she puts it into her bag.

“You’re not going to look?” he asks.

“I trust you. Besides, it’s more fun to go in blind.”

 

*

 

Ben comes to The First Order two days later during her shift. She hasn’t made it to the library in that time, too tired to do anything but go home and sleep. She is _almost_ well rested. The door dings open, and there he is. He makes eye contact with her and smiles shyly. It’s just after 11 am, the line of customers small after the morning rush. Her eyes flit to him as she serves the couple of people in front of him. A vanilla latte, a chai latte, and then there he is. When he steps up to the counter, she beams. “Ben!” she exclaims.

He gives her half a smile, and stifles a yawn.

“You’re here early, for someone who isn’t a morning person,” she chuckles.  

“You said to come visit,” he says. She blushes. She hadn’t expected him to come at all, really. She’s glad he did.

“What can I get you?” she asks, to say something, anything. He’s staring at her intently, his eyes full and dark. His tongue runs over his bottom lip as his eyes stay glued to hers, and a thrill courses through her. His lips are wonderful, full and luscious and pink. Extremely kissable, she decides, then mentally chides herself. She really needs to start getting more sleep.

“Rey?” he asks. She starts, realizes that she’s been staring unblinkingly at his lips.

“Sorry?”

“Medium latte with an extra shot, whole milk please.”

She looks down at the register screen, inputting the order with enough care that she has time to still her racing thoughts. His hand twitches on the counter, lifting up then spreading flat, as if he’s about to reach up and touch her.

“Now I know your coffee order,” she says, and winks. His hand stills, and he smiles then, lopsided and full and radiant. His face looks years younger when he smiles, and she tells him as much.

“I’m not that old,” he pouts.

“No, but you’re older than me. Besides, you’re always frowning. That ages you, you know.”

He rolls his eyes, the smile returning to his face.

“That’ll be three seventy-five,” she says. He hands over his credit card and she swipes it. Their fingers touch as she hands the card back. It’s as if a current of electricity runs up her arm.

Their hands linger together, possibly for too long, but Rey can’t pull away and neither, it seems, can Ben.

“Hey Solo, haven’t seen you this early before,” Poe yells from the back. Ben starts, his card falling to the counter. Poe pokes his head out and smiles. Ben nods, mumbles something unintelligible, shoves his card back into his wallet, and moves to the other side of the counter wait for his coffee.

“Not much of a conversationalist, that one,” Poe says, sidling up to Rey.

“Really? He always talks to me,” she says and she wipes the counter down. Ben was a man of few words, sure, but he had been friendly. Well, after she gave him coffee.

“Huh.” Poe raises an eyebrow at her. “How do you know him, anyway?”

“He works at the library. We talk sometimes,” she answers. If sometimes was nearly every day.

Poe opens his mouth to say something, but at that moment a wave of students floods in, the after-class rush saving her from continuing their conversation. Ben waves at her as he leaves, his drink in his hand. She wiggles her fingers at him, mouthing ‘see you later’.

*

Ben is sitting on her favorite couch at the library the next time she goes. She usually favors the tables, so she can actually get work done, but she’s done with class for the week and doesn’t have work the next day. She’s too tired to walk home and brave the ever-chilling fall-turning-to-winter air for more than the five minutes it takes to walk to the library from class. She just wants to go to the library, sit down, watch Netflix until she has enough energy for the twenty-five-minute walk back to her apartment. But Ben is in her usual spot. She had forgotten how massive he was, his shape always obscured by a counter or a desk. His shoulders take up over half of the love seat, his legs splayed out in front of him.

“Scoot over,” she says, standing in front of him.

He doesn’t move, just barely glances up at her, so she throws her bag on the floor in a huff and squeezes in beside him. He stiffens beside her as she glares up at him. Their arms are pressed together, the warmth of his body against sending heat to some unexpected places. She shifts in her seat.

“I’m not moving,” he says.

“Neither am I.” She reaches into her bag, pulls out her laptop, balancing it on her knees.

At first, he tries to shrink away from her. He glares at her over his book, and she rolls her eyes at him. He sighs, and she pulls out her headphones. She begins an essay that’s not due for another 3 days, only half paying attention as she watches Netflix in another window.

At some point Ben relaxes totally into her. The edges of his arm and leg press against hers, and her arm moves slightly with the gentle rise and fall of his breath.

She steals glances at him occasionally. She isn’t attracted to him, she tells herself. Not his hair, which looked like he spent copious amounts of money and time to care for it. Not his face, his features, all fighting for dominance on his face, which somehow makes him even more attractive. His head is bent down towards his lap, his hair falling into his eyes. The harsh lines and edges fade into something soft and open when he relaxes. He reaches up to brush his hair out of his eyes, the muscles of his arm flexing against her shoulder. Shit.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t dated anyone before. But it had been a long time since she had done _anything_ , really. She hadn’t kissed anyone since a very long and awkward date which resulted in her avoiding the man ever since. And sex… she really needed to get laid. Maybe that’s why being this close to Ben was making her feel this way.

They separate without much event. After a while, Ben puts his book in his bag, slings it over his shoulder, and with a whispered “Goodbye, Rey,” he is gone.

But, from then on, when Ben is in the library but not working at the circulation desk, they share the couch. They are both there at sporadic hours, as the library is open twenty-four hours a day Monday through Friday, but whenever their schedules line up, the push up against each other and read or type away in companionable silence.

 

It’s become their couch, Rey realizes a month later, when the air cools even more and October turns to November. They come and sit and share. If she’s there when he’s working, he occasionally pops by to sit with her and have a whispered conversation. If he’s not, they sit pressed against each other for hours, either doing their own work or sharing earbuds as they watch Netflix.

They are both sitting on the couch one day when she glances over at him and sees that he’s staring at her computer screen. She is watching The Great British Bake Off, as she, for once, has no work due tomorrow. She turns her head to face him, his face much closer to hers than normal. She can see his pupils, usually not fully visible against the dark of his irises. He pulls away, his jaw working from side to side.

“What season is this?” he whispers.

“Two,” she replies. “Ben Solo, do you watch The Great British Bake Off?”

“Of course.” He looks offended that she would even ask such a question. “I don’t understand how they can be so…” he pauses, his nose wrinkling. “Wholesome.” He nearly spits out the word, and Rey covers her giggles with her hand. “It’s a competition,” he continues. “They’re supposed to fight, but instead they just encourage each other.” Rey snorts, and he looks affronted.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She can’t hold back a smile.

“This is serious business,” he says. She bursts out laughing. He smiles his crooked smile, and she offers an ear bud to him. They spend the next hour watching her laptop, their shoulders pressed together.

 

Over the course of the month, they work their way through 2 seasons of The Great British Bake Off, watching an episode here and there when they’re both at the library and neither are busy.

 

*

 

On a bleak, unnecessarily cold Tuesday, he has a bad day and snaps at her when she walks up to the counter. He looks remorseful after he does it, but someone is waiting to check out books, and he takes care of them as Rey wanders back to their couch. Her eyes are misty as she opens her laptop.

It’s a few minutes before he comes back and stands in front her, his hands clasped behind his back. She looks up at him with her headphones still in, her mouth tight.

 “Shit, I’m sorry, Rey,” he says. “I was having a bad day, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“You shouldn’t have,” she agrees. But she pats the seat next to her and holds out an earbud. “Great British Bake Off?” He smiles and plops down next to her. His leg presses fully against hers, and his hair falls into his face as he bends down to set his bag on the floor. His arms spread over the back of the couch, the softness of his dress shirt brushing the back of her neck. She leans into him, just the slightest bit.

The next day, there’s a cupcake on her seat on the couch, with a sticky note. _I’m sorry_ is written in meticulously neat writing, all capital letters. It’s red velvet, her favorite.

 

 

They fall into a rhythm together, sitting and sharing, and just being together in companionable silence.

She asks him to proofread a paper for her one night when she is so tired from staring at her computer screen that the words start to blur together. They exchange phone numbers under the guise of this, but after he emails her the proofread paper back (the man is meticulous about grammar), a simple thank you text leads to more messages. Soon, they are messaging each other every day.

Rey texts him about her day, him offering sympathetic comments and encouragement whenever she complains. He goes to sleep hours after her, and Rey often falls asleep with her phone on her chest, in the middle of a texted conversation. He works out unbelievably late, she finds out, when he says goodbye to go for a run.

“Who goes for a run at one in the morning?” she asks him the next day. Her head rests on her arms on the circulation desk, Ben perched on the chair behind it.  

“Me.”

“Why?”

“I need to work out. And I’m awake, so why shouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m pretty sure it’s a form of torture?”

He rolls his eyes. He’s fighting down a smile, his cheeks twitching with the effort.

She reaches across the desk and pokes his cheek. He smiles, his features softening as his face lights up. Her heart skips a beat. _Shit_.

He catches her hand in his and her breath stalls in her chest. He traces his finger from the tip of her middle finger down to her wrist and back again. “Your hands are so tiny,” he says, wrinkling his nose, a slight raise to his eyebrows. She shivers. His touch is gentle, and his hands dwarf hers. They touch each other often, pressed together on their couch, but their clothes stop their skin from touching fully. Rey curses the November chill. She’s always wearing multiple layers. She wants to feel more, no layers of fabric between their skin. Their eyes meet, and she doesn’t know what her facial expression looks like, but he drops her hand, his ears turning bright pink. _Don’t stop_ , she thinks. Her heart is pounding in her ears.

She holds her hands up and looks at them, then at him.

“I am not tiny,” she says. Her voice sounds breathless, even to her own ears. “We can’t all be human trees like you.”

“Did you just call me a tree?”

“What are you gonna do about it, Solo?”

“Here, tiny hands. Read this one next. It’s one of my favorites.” He pulls a book from behind the counter and pushes to towards her.

*

Rey sits in bed reading later that night. It’s late, and she really should be asleep for lecture in the morning, but she wanted to see what could move the fairly stoic Ben Solo.

Ben’s neat, all caps handwriting crowds the margins. Some words are circled, arrows drawn pointing to sentences.

 

            _somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond_

_any experience, your eyes have their silence:_

_in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,_

_or which i cannot touch because they are too near_

 

            _(i do not know what it is about you that closes_

_and opens; only something in me understands_

_the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)_

_nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands_

 

The last line is circled violently in blue ink. She snorts. He had given her a fully annotated copy. Which included notes about her so-called tiny hands.

 

 

“I finished the collection,” she says when she goes to the library the next day, plopping her bag down on the counter.

“Do you like it?” He isn’t looking at her, but the edge of his ear that is peeking out from his hair turns a dark pink. “Here’s another one.”

“Yes, I liked it. I read it all last night.” He looks up at her now, his half smile playing on his lips. She takes the new book from his hand, their fingers brushing, and slides it into her bag.

“I like your annotations for the most part.”

He stares at her, like he can’t figure out where she’s going.

“But my hands are not that small.” He rolls his eyes, his ears turning an even darker shade of pink.

“That’s what you got out of that?” He’s trying to cover up his embarrassment. Rey loves making him blush, she decides. In a fit of boldness, she grabs his hand and holds it to hers. His palm is rough, and his fingers seem impossibly long against hers. Her breath catches in her throat. She lifts her eyes away from their hands to look at his face. He’s staring at her, and his eyes are so warm, his eyelashes so long.

“Rey,” he says. God, the way he says her name. Their faces move almost imperceptibly closer together. Then he leans down and she stretches up on her tiptoes, another couple of inches and her lips will meet his.

Someone slams something on the counter and clears their throat loudly. Rey jumps, her hand slipping from Ben’s. Ben in question moves to glare at the man standing there behind a stack of books.

“Hux,” he growls.

“Solo. Check these out for me, will you?” The annoyed look on the Hux’s face dissolves into something unsure under Ben’s glare. Rey would laugh if her breath hadn’t been ripped from her chest.

Ben glances back at her, and she picks up her bag. “I have to go anyways,” she says. She shoots daggers with her eyes at the man next to them, who seems to realize that he probably should not have interrupted them.

“Bye, Ben,” she says. “Thanks for the book.”

“Bye, Rey,” he says, his voice impossibly soft around the syllable of her name. His eyes are still pointed at the man, murder behind his unwavering gaze.

*

She doesn’t look at the new poetry collection before she reads it. She’s enjoying reading blind. If she has no expectations, she can’t be disappointed.

She opens the book and begins to read.

The first poem hits her hard. Too hard. By the end, tears are dripping down her nose and onto the page. It throws her back to a time in her life that she has pressed down, that she would rather forget.

 

The poem is titled _Abandoned_ , as if that didn’t remind her of enough.

She tries not to think of her family, or lack thereof. Her parents had abandoned her, kicking and screaming, when she was a small child. She had held out hope that they would come back, but they never had. She had been found by social services, wandering the streets while her parents were shooting up. They had abandoned her, left her to fend for herself-

She pushes down the bad thoughts and continues reading.

 

_Vacant and ghostly and content with death,_

##The time she had seen one of the so-called friends of her parents’ overdose, his body cold and still and unmoving, and she screamed so loudly, telling him to wake up, because he was asleep in the corner of the hovel they called a home that was her, and she was so young and so tired- ##

 

_Once a man’s hearthtree; now the haunt of bats;_

##Going back to her childhood home after much searching, to find it run down and abandoned, needles scattered on the inside, reeking of bodily fluids and suffocating in its stillness. ##

 

_Once a cradle creaked upstairs and someone sang_

Her mother did once. She remembers snippets of a lullaby, the actual timbre and lilt of the voice faded with time.

 

_The terribly beautiful songs young mothers know._

Her parents were young, as she found out as she got older. Young and irresponsible, drug addicted and not ready for a child, but not caring enough to do anything about it. She’s seen the way people treat young parents and it makes her heart hurt-

 

_It is hard, even though you hold your breath,_

It _was_ hard, to live in constant fear that she would never accomplish anything, would never be anything because she had been abandoned by those who were supposed to love her, to protect her.

 

_to step without disturbing the loosened slats_

To sneak into her foster family’s home after working late hours, afraid to wake them, afraid that they would kick her out and she would lose the roof over her head, not quite a home but a place to sleep at night-

 

_And livid plaster…. Go! for a whisper rang_

##Memories back with her parents, someone telling her to leave, that the police were coming, that she should run. She didn’t know why but she did, and it was so long before she found her way back, years and years to end up with nothing but disappointment-##

 

_Through the bleak rafters: Take up your things and go!_

Getting kicked out of her foster family’s house for coming home too late. Living with Finn’s family for the few months left before leaving for university, for the United States, traveling so far for the first time, and completely alone. Finn, her first and best and only friend whom she met at school, who she skypes and keeps in contact with, but hasn’t seen in person in years-

 

She’s crying now, tears running down her face. She puts the book down on her night table and walks out into the tiny kitchen to get a glass of water, where Rose is cooking dinner.

“Rey, what’s wrong?” Rose asks, throwing her arms around Rey’s shoulders, spatula still in one hand.

“Nothing,” Rey sniffs.

“That’s not nothing,” Rose says, her hands rubbing soothing circles in Rey’s back.

“Just thinking about some heavy stuff,” Rey says. Rose hugs her tighter, then holds her away to look at her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“I’m fine, Rose. Really. I’m just going to take a shower and go to bed.”

“I’m here if you want to talk.”

“Thank you.” Rey sniffs one last time and heads to the bathroom.

 

 

Freshly showered and sitting on her bed, she messages Ben.

           

_From Rey_

Hey

 

_From Ben Solo_

What are you up to?

 

_From Rey_

Reading the new collection

 

_From Ben Solo_

How do you like it?

 

_From Rey_

It’s sad.

 

_From Ben Solo_

Yes, it is

 

_From Rey_

It makes me think of my family.

 

She hesitates for a few seconds before adding:

 

_From Rey_

They abandoned me.

 

_From Ben Solo_

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.

 

_From Rey_

It’s fine, u wouldn’t have known. Sometimes the holidays are hard for me.

 

_From Ben Solo_

I don’t talk to my family either.

 

_From Rey_

Y?

 

He doesn’t respond for a while, and Rey sends another message.

 

_From Rey_

You don’t have to tell me if u don’t want to.

 

_From Ben Solo_

No, it’s fine. I’ve never been close with my family but it got worse during college. My full name is Ben Organa-Solo, but I hate using my mother’s last name. She and my uncle are politicians, and I didn’t want to follow in their footsteps, and my uncle and I got into a huge fight. I haven’t talked to him since my second year of undergrad. That’s also the last time I went home for Xmas. My mother always wanted to bankroll me but was never around to actually parent me. My father and I could never be in the same room without fighting.

 

_From Rey_

That sucks

 

_From Ben Solo_

Yes.

 

Rey smiles a bit. The man seemed to be incapable of typing anything as informal as “yeah”.

 

_From Rey_

But at least you still have a family. You know why they’re angry. Sometimes I feel like my parents shouldn’t have had me.

 

He doesn’t respond as fast as he had been, and Rey sets her phone down on her bedside table. She jumps when it begins to vibrate.

“Hi, Ben,” she says as she picks up.

“Hello, Rey.” His voice is softer, the bass washing over her like a soothing balm.

“You called,” she says.

“You seemed upset. Sometimes a voice helps.”

“Yeah,” she sniffs. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just a mess and I’m alone in the world.”

“You’re perfect, Rey. And you’re not alone.”

 

They don’t talk about the conversation they had, but the next day at the library, she brings Ben a vanilla latte. His smile is full, even though there are pronounced bags under his eyes. He brings her a cookie from Insomnia Cookies, hot and fresh and warm. S’mores flavor, chocolatey and gooey. She eats the cookie standing at the counter, not wanting to leave his presence. He doesn’t say anything about food in the library.

*

Rey is late for lecture. Not slightly late, but 30 minutes late, the she probably should have stayed home late. _Screw it_ , she decides, and heads to the library.

She stops in her tracks on the way to the desk. Ben is there, and he’s wearing glasses. They are wire framed, with a thicker line of black over the top and arms. He looks up at her and smiles, and she’ll be damned if he doesn’t look even sexier in glasses than he usually does. She wills her legs to walk over to him.

“You’re wearing glasses,” she says, fighting to keep her voice steady. She wants to jump over the counter and kiss him, he looks so good.

He touches said glasses self-consciously, pushing them higher up on his face, his neck pinking slightly. 

“Yes, I ran out of contact lens solution today.” She hasn’t stopped staring at him.

“They look nice,” she says.

“Really? They make my face look weird,” he says with a grimace. He reaches up with one hand fidgets with a glasses arm.

“You should wear them more often,” she tells him.

She touches herself to him that night.

 

*

 

Rey stays on campus for Christmas break. Rose and Paige go up to Northern California to visit their family, but Rey denies their invitation to join. She has gone before, and Tico family had welcomed her with open arms. But all she could think of was her own family, or lack of one. While she loved Christmas, the holidays always brought back the worst memories.

So, she goes to the library, where she has always found sanctuary, now with the added comfort of Ben. She brings her laptop, charger, headphones, and a couple of small blankets. Her backpack is bulging as she walks in. She wants to hole up somewhere comfortable and watch movies all day, rather than be alone in her empty apartment. She is surprised to find Ben at the counter. He looks up from his laptop and smiles at her.

“Hi, Rey.”

“Ben!” She beams at him. “You don’t normally work now,” she says.

“It’s just me till Christmas,” he says.

“I’m planning to watch every Christmas movie I can get my hands on, if you want to join me,” she says. He glances at her overstuffed backpack. “My roommates are gone, and my apartment is empty,” she says sheepishly. “I didn’t want to be there alone.”

“You’re not alone,” he says as he walks from around the desk. “You have me.” He walks to the main library door and pokes his head out, peering each way down the hallway. He closes the door and locks it.

“Our couch?” he asks.

“Did you just close the library?”

He shrugs. “You’re the first person who’s come in all day. No one’s going to come to the library this close to Christmas. Everyone’s left campus.”

They settle on the couch, sharing one of Rey’s blankets, and proceed to argue over which movie to watch. They finally decide, or rather, Rey presses play and Ben huffs and settles beside her.

When six o’clock rolls around, they order Chinese food delivery. Ben runs out to pick it up. There’s snow in his hair when he comes back inside, and Rey wants to run her fingers through it, watch the delicate white flakes melt in her hands.

“Why don’t you go home with friends for the holidays?” She asks him as they eat, dancing around the topic of his family.

“I don’t have that many friends,” he says, poking at his food with chopsticks.

“Why not?”

“I don’t…” he pauses. “I’m not the friendliest person. I was bullied as a kid and I guess I haven’t tried to be that close to anyone since…” he trails off.

“I don’t have many close friends either,” she says. “Mostly Rose, here in the states. And Paige, at least by proxy. Poe and I go out for drinks sometimes, too. My best friend Finn is back in England.” She begins to tear up, and swipes angrily at her eyes. “I miss him so much. He’s my oldest friend.”

“Oh, Rey.” He hands her a napkin. She dabs at her eyes, but the tears won’t stop coming. Ben puts his arm around her. It’s heavy and warm around her shoulders, and she leans into him, covering her face with her hands.

Finally, she manages to get her tears under control.

“I’m sorry,” she says, sniffling.

“It’s okay, Rey. You don’t have to apologize for having feelings.”

She laughs softly, her voice still thick from crying. “It gets worse for me around the holidays.”

“For me too,” he says softly. And then, “My shoulder is always open for you to cry on.”

She throws her arms around his middle, burying her face in his chest. “Thank you,” she says. She starts to pull back, but his arm tightens around her. Instead, she moves until her head is settled comfortably on his chest and she can see the computer screen. “Come on. Let’s watch another movie.” She tucks her feet under her on the couch and leans more of her weight into him.

They watch movies for most of the night, curled together. Sometime around two, Ben’s hand starts to rub slow circles into her back. Her eyes drift closed, and the gentle rise and fall of his breath lulls her to sleep.

 

She wakes up to the dark quiet of the library. Her laptop has fallen asleep, and by the looks of it, so has Ben. She shifts in his arms, peering up to study his face. His mouth is parted slightly, the lines of his face completely relaxed.

“Rey?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. “What time is it?” he unwraps one arm from her waist and reaches up to run it over his face. She doesn’t want to get up. She is warm and comfortable, and would it really be so bad to sleep in the library? On Ben? Her empty bed at her apartment pales in comparison to this. She buries her face deeper in his chest

“I’m asleep,” she mumbles.

“We should head home,” he says. She feels a feather light touch on her hair, almost as if he had… no. Did he? Almost as if he had pressed a kiss to the top of her head.  She snuggles deeper into his chest. She’s too tired to contemplate the implications of that now.

 

Eventually, reluctantly, she rouses herself from the combatable warmth of his chest. They pack up and leave. Rey wraps herself in blankets instead of tugging on her coat.

Ben drives her to her apartment, his car a sleek black German luxury number that he explains was a college graduation gift from his parents. “Gave me a car but didn’t show up to my graduation,” he mumbles as he starts the engine.

She lingers in the passenger seat as they idle in front of her building.

“If you’re not doing anything for Christmas, you should come over. We can have round 2 of movies and Chinese food,” she says, nervously fiddling with her sleeves.

“I’d love to,” he says. He smiles his lopsided smile, and Rey sighs in relief.

“Great! Text me a good time. I’ll be here all day!” She slides out of the car and runs up the stairs, her cheeks burning, a smile plastered across her face.

She’s fallen entirely for Ben Solo, and she doesn’t even know where to begin to show her feelings.

But he is coming over to her apartment for Christmas dinner, so she supposes that’s a start.

 

*

 

It’s two days before Christmas when she comes to the library next. She has been holed up in her apartment, baking Christmas cookies as an endless stream of movies plays on repeat in the background, her laptop open to video calls with Ben as she bustles around her kitchen.

The memory of Ben’s arm around her shoulders is what drives her from her room back out into the cold to make the trek to the library. It’s empty when she arrives, save for Ben at the desk.

“How are you?” she asks, propping her elbows on the desk.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His eyes are roaming up and down her body. A shiver runs up her spine. And she does feel beautiful today, in a pale blue long sleeved dress and tights. She had dressed up to try to cheer herself up through the dreary winter weather. But the way Ben is staring at her, the dress is having an unexpected effect.

Her phone starts buzzing frantically, and she looks down to see a string of texts from Rose.

           

_From Rose_

Essay due today!

Shit

Shit

Shit

 

_Oh, fuck._

Of course she has an essay due today. Of course she does. Honestly, without the constant reminder of class and strict time commitments, she hadn’t really thought of it at all over the break. Of course it was due by midnight on December 23rd. Who did that, anyways? What sick professor wants students to spend Christmas working on an essay? In her head, she knows it’s a good thing. Their final essays for the class were due much later than normal. The professor was being _nice_. She shouldn’t have procrastinated. Or forgotten entirely.

It’s six pm. She can do this. She can write a 10-page paper in proper Chicago Style format by midnight. She explains this to Ben, leaning over the desk and worrying her lip between her teeth.

“Go work,” he says. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

            She rushes back to her usual table loses herself in the paper. Ben comes back about an hour into her work with a mug of coffee. She smiles up at him.

“Where did you get this?” she asks.

“Staff room coffee machine. Not the finest, but better than nothing.” He winks. Good god, she does not have time for his sexiness right now. She only moves once, to go to the bathroom and fill up her water bottle. Ben pokes his head out from behind a bookshelf, but she sends him such a panicked look that he nods and withdraws his head. She doesn’t see him for another 3 hours, until he walks up to her table. His bag is thrown over his shoulder. It is 10 pm, the official closing time of the library when classes aren’t in session.

“Library’s closed,” he says, swinging the keys from his hand.

“This assignment is due at midnight. I’m almost done,” she pleads. His brow furrows. “Please please please,” she says. “By the time I get back home, I won’t have enough time to finish it before it’s due.”

“Only for you,” he says.

Rey sighs in relief. “Thank you so much, Ben.” Emboldened by the possible, maybe-kiss the last time they were together, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek.

He opens his mouth, closes it, nods, and walks back towards the front of the library.

She sits down and types faster than he ever has in her life. She finishes it at 11:45, and submits the paper by email. She sighs and leans back in her chair.

“Finished!” she yells.

“Good,” Ben’s voice comes from behind her. She turns to see him lounging on their couch. His head rests on one arm of the loveseat, his knees on the other, his feet hanging over the side.

She packs her bag and walks to stand by him. She leans over him, his face upside down, her hair brushing his cheeks. “Come on, Solo. We can go get Chinese food, my treat.” He stares at her in rapt attention. She could lean down and kiss him, she thinks. But he stands up, swings his bag over his shoulder, and slips his book inside.

“Thank you so much,” she says. She has to crane her neck, he is so tall and so _close_. He smiles down at her. She throws her arms around him. He stands still, as if surprised, then wraps his arms around her.

“You saved my life,” she mumbles into his chest.

“That’s hyperbole,” he says.

“I’m a master of literary terms.”

She looks up at him, still pressed tightly against his chest. Her heart starts to race. His face is so close to hers, his lips just a handful of centimeters away.

“Rey,” he whispers. His hands press more tightly into her waist.

“Yes?” she whispers. He presses his lips to hers and she melts into him.

His lips are ungodly soft, pliant but firm against hers. Her tongue slides between his lips, and he tastes like coffee. His tongue surges against hers, and god, why did she wait so long to do this?

Her arms snake up to his shoulders, and she pushes his bag to the ground, tossing hers along with it. He walks forward, pushing her back. Her back hits a shelf, hard, and books spill down around them. Her back is going to bruise, she knows it, but the heady thrill of the current moment is worth it. He pulls his mouth away and latches on to her neck. “Ben,” she moans. One leg hooks up near his hips, and then his hands grab onto her ass and he lifts her up. She wraps her legs around his waist as his lips move down her chest.

“Do you know—” kiss. “How.” Bite. “Long.” He swirls his tongue around the bite. “I’ve wanted to do this?” He sucks on her collar bone and she keens.

“The feeling is mutual, Be-e-n.” His name dissolves into a moan as he bites and sucks his way farther down her chest.

She pulls his face back to hers, crushing their lips together once again. She bites his bottom lip. It’s plump between her teeth, and he moans, a sound low in his throat. His fingers dig into her thighs. She grinds her hips against him, only reaching his stomach since he is holding her so high. She feels his erection press into her and she presses down against it.

His fingers move under her dress and grab her ass, hoisting her slightly higher. Her hands find their way to his neck his chest, firm under her fingers. Ben moves from the shelf, his grip on her never loosening as he walks. She shivers against the cold wood as he lays her down on the nearest table. He pulls away for a moment to survey her. His hair is wild, his face flushed.

Rey sits up and lifts her dress over her head, tossing it to the floor. Ben stares at her now exposed breasts, his mouth parted slightly. She pinks all the way down to her nipples.

“I didn’t want to wear a bra with this dr—oh, yes.” He is on her in a flash, and she trails off as he swirls his tongue over a nipple. Her hands fist in his hair and her hips cant forward to grind against his erection. Her hands slip under his shirt, pushing it up until he reaches for it himself and lifts it over his head. He throws it somewhere behind him. The press of his bare chest against hers is perfect, his chest firm, skin warm. She unbuttons his pants, pushing them to the ground along with his black boxer briefs. Her hands fist around his cock. He groans at her touch, and she smiles.

“Better than one of your poems?” she says jokingly, as his lips make their way up to a delicious spot behind her ear. He stops and she whines. He stares at her like he wants to devour her.

“Wait here,” he says. He moves from between her legs, leaving a chill in his place. She sits on the table, her heart rate speeding. She takes this opportunity to shimmy out of her tights and discard them on the floor, on top of her dress.

He comes back with a book in his hand. He places the book down on her lap, open to a poem.

“Read,” he says.

A smile creeps over her face. “Of course you would, Ben Solo.”

He slides her underwear down her legs and tosses them behind him. He spreads her legs with a hand on each of her knees and kneels in front of her. This is the hottest fucking thing she has ever done in her life.

She clears her throat dramatically and he chuckles. He looks up at her through dark, hooded eyes. His breath ghosts over her sex and she gasps. 

“I sing the body electric,” she begins. He places a kiss on each of her inner thighs.

“The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them.” He runs his tongue over her lips and she moans. His tongue moves inside her, causing her hips to press closer to his mouth. He moves her legs to rest on his shoulders, pulling her even closer.

“They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them.” God, his tongue. Her voice wavers at his ministrations. She swears she can feel him grin from between her legs.

“And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul.” She shifts the hold of the book to one hand and cards the other through his hair. He hums contently, and the vibration sends another rush of wetness to her core.

“Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves?” Her eyes close as he moves his mouth to her clit and slips a finger inside her. Her head tilts back.

“God, Ben.”

His finger stills and she looks at him in disbelief. “Ben,” she whines.

“Don’t stop,” he says. His chest heaves as he licks his lips. The sight of him tasting her sends her mind into a frenzy. It takes her a few seconds to focus enough to read the words on the page.

“And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead?” Two fingers now.

“And if the body does not do fully as much as the soul?” He slips another finger inside and she can barely keep her voice steady.

“And if the body were not the soul, what is the soul?” He curls his fingers, and the book falls from her hands as she comes. Her fingers wrap around the edge of the table.

He moves to stand, pressing kisses up her stomach and her shoulder. He stands between her legs in all his naked glory, his fingers still buried insider her. He captures her in an electrifying kiss as her orgasm shoots through her.

He presses her back onto the table, the wood cool against her back. His mouth and fingers are on her neck, her breasts, kissing, licking, sucking, touching. Her arms stretch to hold on to the other side of the table. He braces his forearms beside her head.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he says.

“I’m on birth control,” she pants. “Are you clean?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yes,” she pants. He groans as he thrusts inside her in one motion. She gasps at the fullness. “Fuck,” he pants, her hot breath in her ear. She can feel the ripple of his muscles as he moves.

Her legs hook around his back, forcing his hips in deeper. Her nails scrape down his back, one hand on him, one hand still bracing herself on the table. He cranes his neck down to take a nipple into his mouth. Her head is filled with dizzying pleasure, and she’s so close. The library is filled with minutes of the obscene slap of skin on skin, the sound of their fucking a heady buzz in her ears. He plants sloppy kisses on her breasts, up her neck, moving in time with his hips until he reaches her mouth. Her cries are muffled by his lips. She is dizzy with the taste, the feel of him. The library will never be the same. He pulls away, licks from her collar bone to her chin, and then she falls over the edge, her mouth open in a silent scream as she comes.

“Fuck, Rey.” He buries his face in her neck as he comes, his teeth sinking to the meat of her shoulder.

She comes down from the high, her eyes focusing on the chandelier above them.

He pushes up on his forearms, slipping out of her. She can feel the stickiness drip down inside of her thighs. Her legs loosen from around his waist, but don’t unwrap completely.

“Rey,” he says, a smile playing on his lips.

“Ben,” she says. She pauses, and then says, “We just fucked in the library.”

He laughs, resting his forehead against hers. “We did,” he says, breathless.

 

They take their time getting dressed. She pauses to kiss his chest, to run her fingers up and down his body. He plants kisses around her shoulders and down her back, making her sigh in pleasure.

He drives her home again. She leans over to kiss him goodbye, and ends up in his lap straddling him in the driver’s seat, one hand tugging on his hair, the other resting on his chest.

She stumbles into her apartment and falls asleep the second her head hits the pillow.

 

*

 

Christmas dinner two days later is a wild affair. Ben shows up laden with wine, eggnog, and Chinese carryout.

“Merry Christmas,” he says as he shucks off his coat and shoes. 

“Happy Christmas,” she replies, and pulls him by his collar for a kiss.

Everything goes much slower than anticipated because they just can’t stop touching each other. A kiss here, a caress there, and then she is bent over the living room couch as Ben fucks her from behind. Rey thanks whatever power is out there in the universe that her roommates will be gone for another week. She really could get used to this.

They burn a batch of cookies because one kiss turns into Rey on her knees, her mouth wrapped around Ben’s cock as he braces himself on the kitchen counter behind him.

After dinner, after movies, after another impossibly good round of sex, they are twined together in Rey’s bed, naked skin against naked skin.

“Stay the night,” she says sleepily as he starts to crawl out of bed in the wee hours of the morning.

“Of course,” he replies, wrapping his arms back around her.

**Author's Note:**

> Poems used, in order:  
> https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/somewhere-i-have-never-travelledgladly-beyond  
> https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/abandoned  
> https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45472/i-sing-the-body-electric
> 
>  
> 
> Inspiration:  
> https://allpoetry.com/lady-i-will-touch-you-with-my-mind  
> https://allpoetry.com/i-like-my-body-when-it-is-with-your  
> https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/house-ghosts  
> https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/eulogy
> 
>  
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! This was my first attempt at writing an AU not in the Star Wars universe. Thank you to the Reylo Charity Anthology for putting this all together!


End file.
